


Rainbow Theories

by embarrassing_myself



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Orphanage, Past Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embarrassing_myself/pseuds/embarrassing_myself
Summary: Safe Haven is not an 'orphanage' it's a Youth Shelter. At least thats what all the counselors and directors will tell you. Patrick knows better though. He's been living at Safe Haven since he was thirteen. He's convinced he's unlovable until the Wentzs come into his life.  Pete isn't so friendly and Patrick's convinced one wrong move and he'll be sent back to the shelter. Maybe things will work out, he can only hope.





	1. Chapter 1

Safe Heaven, or S.H for short is a “youth Shelter,” not an orphanage. Or at least that’s what all the directors and the counselors will tell you. Patrick, however knows better. He’s lived at the “shelter” since he was thirteen. It’s been years, nearly four now. The words ‘vulnerable’ and ‘troubled’ get thrown around a lot, but Patrick knows the truth. S.H is the place you end up when home isn't an option anymore and foster homes aren’t working out. Adoption is always on the table but the chances of that happening are slim, because nobody wants you anyway. Your family didn’t care, what makes you think some stranger is going to? If anything, three years has taught him that much.

 

Safe Haven is a large facility but it’s far from nice. The walls are white and the tile floors are white and speckled with blues and greens. Like the outdated tile in public schools. Every window has bars, making the place feel like a prison half the time. The most recent and current part about the building is its modern alarm system. Seriously, it’s top notch. Nobody can get in and nobody can get. Patrick knows because he’s tried, it takes a passcode and a keycard. It’s pointless trying to get either the code or the card, let alone both.

 

“Stump, chores,” Ethan says, shoving a broom into Patrick’s hands. “I’m not trying to lose points this week,” the older boy mumbles before wondering off.

 

Patrick sighs before giving him a short nod. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they’ve already lost a handful of points. Him and Ethan had never really gotten along, but that was normal. Ethan didn’t get along with anyone.

 

Safe Haven runs off a point system. You have to behave, do your chores, stay caught up in school, and avoid any kind of public melt down. You do that and your group will get points for the week. Of course, there are plenty of things you can do to lose points for your group. In fact that’s usually what ends up happening. Patrick can’t recall at least one week where his “accountability group” didn’t lose points.

 

They do try though. Points mean privileges. Which means trips outside of the shelter. Fort Ethan it means visits with his family.

 

Ethan is one of the few kids that still has a family that cares. He’s almost eighteen and he’s trying his hardest to get out. Patrick doesn’t know the whole story but from the bits and pieces he’s gathered, he knows Ethan’s step dad was abusive, his mom couldn’t get away and finally somebody called CPS and he was yanked from the home. Things must be a lot better if he’s allowed visits home. Maybe his mom finally managed to get out.

 

Regardless, Ethan has somebody to love him and some place to go home to when it’s all over. Patrick tries not to be bitter or jealous. He tries to follow the rules and he tries not to lose his shit.

 

And besides, sweeping the floor isn’t all that bad. He starts in the lobby, he’ll work his way to the halls, and then he’ll finish off in the boys section where his room is. It’s not really his room, he shares it with two other kids but it’s all he’s got.

 

The girls get a section too, or a hall. Girls in the west hall, boys in the east. Same outline and concept, same floor plan, and same 12-18 year olds. It’s all the same at S. H.

 

Patrick lets himself get lost in thought and the repetition movement of the broom bristles against the tile floor, he doesn’t even notice when a couple comes up behind him. “Excuse me young man, can you tell us where Mrs Anglia Moore's office is?” A woman asks, startling the teen.

 

“You um...you have to have an appointment to see Mrs Moore...I think,” Patrick mumbles, trying not to stumble over his words to much. There are only a handful of people he talks to on a daily basis, it’s somewhat hard to have conversations with new people.

 

The woman smiles softly at him and the man next to her returns her same expression. “We do, the office attendant directed us back this way, but we can’t seem to find it,” she says.

 

She’s got tanned olive skin and dark hair. Her eyes are a deep brown to match. Everything about her is warm, dark, and rich.

 

The man next to her is tall and his eyes and hair are much lighter but he’s got a bright smile and he looks just as friendly as she does.

 

Patrick suddenly wonders what they’re doing here. They look too nice, not exactly a young couple but they have that gentle demeanor about them. If they’re looking to adopt they should be in the building next door. The one where all the babies and toddlers are. Not here. Not with all the ‘misplaced’ teenagers.

 

Patrick’s gaze drops to the floor before he shyly forces himself to speak again. “She’s just down the hall. H-her office is the first door on the right,” Patrick mumbles.

 

“Well thank you…” The woman trails off, waiting for the teen to give them his name.

 

“Umm, Patrick,” he finishes for her, finally looking back at them.

 

“Thank you, Patrick,” She says softly with another warm smile. “And your last name?”

 

Patrick swallows nervously, unsure of why it would matter, but again he answered back. “Stump.”

 

Her husband, at least that’s who Patrick is assuming he is, clasped him lightly on the shoulder before smiling again. “You have a good day, Patrick.”

 

Patrick couldn’t help but feel small in their presence, especially when they looked at him like they did. He’d wanted to shrink away from the touch but thankfully the couple had already headed off to see Mrs. Moore. They were nice enough, Patrick thinks.

 

Even if he was nervous, they had pretty smiles.

 

  
***

 

After Patrick finishes his chores, he starts on his homework, has dinner, helps with the dishes, and then ends his day with a shower. It’s just like every other day at S.H.

  
Nothing changes and everything is always the same. He imagines that he should be thankful for the last constant in his life. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t care anymore. He’s numb to the routine. It doesn’t make him happy that it’s never changing, it doesn’t anger him anymore. He’s only going through the motion.

 

Bedtime is a little more difficult. Mainly, because his roommates have ‘conflicting’ emotions when it comes to sleeping.

 

Patrick shares his room with two other boys. Colin, who’s a year older than he is and Max who is a year younger than he is.

 

Colin is a dark haired seventeen year old who would have excelled in every area if his parents hadn’t been addicted to drugs. He’s calm, a little cold, but sometimes him and Patrick have actual conversations. He’s not a bad kid, he’s just wayward. And who isn’t a bit wayward at an orphanage?

 

Then there is Max. Max is a fifteen year old with ADHD. He’s a childish, blond haired, ball of energy, who’s been in the system since he was four. He’s the one who has the most issues with sleeping. And with behaving, and chores, and of course paying attention to anything for longer than six seconds.

 

“God damn it, Max! Go to sleep!” Colin yells, throwing a pillow in Max’s direction.

 

Max, who is currently jumping on the bed, easily dodges it. “I can’t! I’m not tired!” Max is never tired though. Getting him to sleep is like pulling teeth, trying to sleep when he’s awake is like trying to...well it’s like trying to sleep next to a fifteen with a hyperactivity disorder. It’s not easy.

 

  
Patrick sighs softly before grabbing his extra pillow and shoving it over his head. They do this every night. Colin yells at Max, Max bounces off the walls, Ethan who’s next door yells, ‘go the fuck to sleep!’ Patrick tries to drown them all out. It’s a routine.

 

“I swear to god Max, if you don't lay down and sleep I’m going to murder you,” Colin growls, before somehow finding another pillow to throw.

 

“How do rainbows work?” Max asks innocently, still bouncing.

 

“It’s how the light reflects off raindrops, they get sunlight in them and the light refracts and it makes a rainbow,” Patrick answers, not being able to stop himself. It’s not a good description but he hopes it’s enough to satisfy the fifteen year old.

 

“Don’t encourage him, he’ll just ask fifty more questions if you try and answer,” Colin groans. He’s more than a little familiar with Max’s games.

 

In reality he doesn’t want to sleep, he doesn’t want anyone to sleep cause he doesn’t want to be awake and all alone. If Max can asks questions and get you to answer them, well then he’s just bought himself some more awake time.

 

Patrick understands that, he doesn’t hold it against Max even if he is exhausted.

 

“I don’t understand, the raindrops have sun in them?” Max asks, ignoring Colin. He does slow his constant bouncing some and Patrick thinks it’s a small accomplishment.

 

“Uh, the water droplets you know? The sun shines on them and some of the light gets refracted, like it shines back. And when the light shines back off the water droplets, you get a rainbow,” Patrick mumbles, doing his best to make Max understand.

 

“What? What does…” Max trails off, thoroughly confused.

 

Before anyone else can say anything, a loud thump comes from the other side of the wall. And then comes Ethan’s angry voice, muffled but loud and clear.

 

“Go to bed, assholes! Night time is for sleeping, not talking about fucking rainbows!” Ethan yells from the other side.

 

Colin groans again before getting up to find the pillow he throw at Max. Max huffs before he finally settles down into bed, not before making Patrick promise to go over the ‘rainbow theory’ again in the morning.

 

Patrick doesn’t bother to explain the difference between theories and scientifically proven phenomenons.

***

Patrick usually doesn’t wake up until seven. He knows it’s not seven yet because of the absence of light coming through the windows. Still, for some reason he’s awake. Or, no, he’s being shaken awake. His thought is that it’s Max, who is very intent on finding out about rainbows. But he slowly realizes that even Max doesn’t get up until the alarm goes off.

 

“Patrick, wake up. I need to speak with you.” Comes a feminine voice while the shaking continues.

 

“Mrs, Moore?” Patrick mumbles, forcing himself to truly open his eyes and wake up. In his half asleep state he’s slightly confused, he doesn’t understand why the director is waking him up before the sun is even up. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I want to see you in my office before breakfast,” she explains a little too quickly.

 

Patrick rubs at his eyes, sitting up afterwards. Suddenly he feels much more awake than he did seconds ago.

 

“You aren’t in trouble,” the director adds, trying to take on a kinder tone. But there is still a sense of urgency in her voice. “But you need to get up and get dressed. You need to hurry, it’s important,” she says.

 

Before Patrick can ask her any more questions, she leaving the room, shutting the door as quietly as she can manage.

 

Patrick blinks tiredly, fighting the urge to fall back into bed. He can’t figure out what she would want to talk to him about. Usually anything she wanted to ask Patrick was done in their monthly meeting with his caseworker. She had never once sought him out to discuss something.

 

Regardless, after she leaves Patrick forces himself out of bed and starts to get dressed. He tries to keep his shuffling down to a minimum, he knows his roommates wouldn’t exactly enjoy being woken up nearly an hour early.

 

He throws on a clean shirt and a pair jeans before grabbing an old hoodie. He tries to comb his hair out the best he can, it’s a little difficult in the dark and he doesn’t dare turn on the lights yet.

 

After he feels like he’s presentable enough, he heads to the office. His stomach is in knots and he’s trying to think of anything he might of done wrong in the past week. He hadn’t let any of grades fall, he was following his chore list, he hadn’t misbehaved in school, he was getting along with everyone in his group. Avoiding them as much as he could, truthfully. But he hadn’t gotten to any fights. As far as he knew there was nothing. Logically there was no reason why she would want to see him.

 

The walk to her office feels like it takes forever, but when he’s suddenly at her door he has to take a few deep breaths before knocking. Without waiting for an answer he steps inside.

 

“You wanted to see me, ma'am?” He asks, standing nervously in the doorway.

 

On her desk is a shiny name plaque with the words, Anglia Moore - Director, in a nice font. She’s got a few papers out and a large Manila folder on the desk as well and what looks like a cup of coffee that had gone cold.

 

“Come on in, you can close the door. Please take seat,” she says, finally looking up at Patrick and giving him a tight smile. “I want to discuss some things with you.”

 

Patrick’s face scrunches up in confusion but he does what he’s asked. Carefully he steps the rest of the way into the office, closing the door and sitting in one of the empty chairs. “Is something wrong?” He asks quietly.

 

Mrs. Moore doesn’t say anything for a long few seconds. Instead she shuffles her papers again, opens the folder, and moves a couple more things around. Usually she’s a very kept woman. Professional and unshakable, Patrick doesn’t think he’s ever seen her looked so frazzled and overwhelmed. She’s got this strange look on her face, like she’s just as uncomfortable as he is.

 

Finally, after a solid minute of her generally pretending like she didn’t hear him, she answers. “There was a couple here yesterday afternoon, I spoke with them for a bit and they’re interested in adoption,” she says, pausing for another moment. “There was a message on my answering machine this morning and they were...inquiring about you,” she says around a heaved sigh. “I had told them that it would be best to...get to know them and then attempt to match them with a child. One who would thrive in their family. When I spoke to them this morning though they were very adamant that they wanted to meet you specially.”

 

Patrick suddenly felt numb. He couldn’t really wrap his brain around what was being said. What couple? Surely it couldn’t be the couple he’d meet in the hall, the couple he’d spoken to for a grand total for forty seconds. “I don’t understand,” Patrick says, shaking his head. He feels like he wants to bolt out of the office and hide in his bed.

 

“Sometimes it’s difficult to discuss this with children, or teenagers in your case. People get excited and hopes get high,” Mrs. Moore says carefully. “But you and I both know these things fall through quite often. This is by no means me telling you that you’re going to be adopted and I’m not calling your caseworker just yet. But they do want to meet you and spend some time with you.” Mrs. Moore explains.

 

Patrick just eyes her with distrust. “I’m almost eighteen, they can’t be serious,” he mumbles. He doesn’t want to meet with any couple, even if they were friendly and had nice smiles. He knows they won’t like him, they won’t once they get to know him. “Maybe they should go and see the really little kids, like the babies and the toddlers next door,” he suggests. “Isn’t that what they want? You should tell them that would better. I don’t think I want to meet them.”

 

Mrs Moore just gives Patrick a sad look, like she knew this would happen. Like she was the one who didn’t want to get her hopes up. “Patrick, you just turned sixteen. Two years isn’t an ‘almost.’ I know it’s scary sometimes. But they’re giving you a chance, all I’m asking is that you be willing to give them a chance too,” she says softly, giving Patrick a pleading look. “You know this doesn't happen too often. Some kids go years without any chance at a real family. Please meet with them.”

  
  
Patrick looks away for a moment, unsure of what to say. ‘ _They won’t like you, they won’t want you, don’t even get your hopes up,’_ he tells himself.

 

But there isn’t any harm in meeting them right? Not when he’s positive nothing will come of it. Maybe it’ll even get him out of chores. “Okay…” He mumbles. “When are they coming back?”

 

Mrs. Moore gives him another look before replying. “At five today,” she says. “They were very insistent,” she goes on to say.

 

“Today?” Patrick asks again, unsure if he heard that right. He thought maybe sometime next week. “Like, today at five?”

 

She nods again before sighing once more. “Today at five yes,” she repeats. “They’re names are Dale and Peter. Please, be on your best behavior, Patrick. Now, go get some breakfast, you’ve got class soon.”

 

Patrick just stares at her, feeling somehow empty before nodding and getting up from his chair. He doesn’t tell her but he doesn’t feel very hungry anymore.

 

***

 

Turns out he really didn’t get out of covering his chore list. He just had to get it done before five.

 

Patrick sighs before he finally puts the broom away. He doesn’t want to meet anyone, he doesn’t want to spend time with anyone. Patrick would rather stay in his room, listen to the radio, and hope something decent plays.

 

But Mrs. Moore has already reminded him twice about his meeting with the Wentzs’. Or is it an appointment...a visit? He’s not sure what to call it. Patrick just knows that it's 4:50 and he can’t be late.

 

The visitors room is an old cleared out office with a table and a couple swivel chairs. Patrick winces at the musty old scent in the room. He glances around and he realizes that it’s been a long time since anyone has cleaned it. No dusting, no moping, nothing like that. It just goes to show how little the room is actually used. Patrick hesitantly moves around the table and takes a seat.

 

He’s very aware of how there is nothing to do but wait. The clock on the wall ticks so loudly that Patrick can’t seem to think of anything else.

 

He can’t help but wonder why they would want to him, or why they would even want to get to know him.

 

Patrick doesn’t consider himself interesting or outgoing. He’s not funny or overly smart. And if Mrs. Moore showed them his file or told them anything about his ‘personal history’ well then they would know how screwed up he is. They should be running far far away from Patrick.

 

Hell, anyone would be better than Patrick. Max who would keep them up all night, Colin who’s got his own bottled up issues. Even Ethan with his anger issues. Anyone of them would be a better fit.

 

Apparently though, it looks like he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It’s 5:10 and they still haven’t showed up. Another ten minutes pass, 5:20, and then it’s 5:30. Patrick stares blankly at the clock before getting up. They changed their mind. The Wentzs decided that Patrick wasn’t worth their time.

 

Which was true. The sixteen year old feels nothing. He’s trained himself to feel nothing. It’s something he’s secretly proud of.

 

Just as he’s about to leave, the couple comes rushing through the door.

 

“Patrick, we are so sorry, we didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Our son, Pete, was having some kind of crisis. He needed a ride and then he forgot his phone so we had to turn around. It was an ordeal but we’re so sorry,” Dale says.

 

They both look somewhat out to breath, like maybe they had been running.

 

For a moment, Patrick gives them a confused look but he quickly nods at them and sits back down.

 

“I don’t mind. I wasn’t doing anything,” he answers back weakly.

 

“Well, it won’t happen again. Maybe now we can get to know each other.” Peter says, taking a seat at the table with Dale and Patrick.

 

***

 

They had spent three hours in that room. Patrick was surprised when nobody came in to remind the couple that it was lights out at nine.

 

He listens though when they talked about themselves. They are really a family of five but two of their children had moved out of state to attend college. One of their sons though was still living at home.

 

They talked about why they wanted to adopt. Something about having so much love to give and how they wanted to share it with another child. And how their heart said it was the right thing to do.

 

But Patrick isn't a child. At least he doesn’t consider himself one. He’ll be eighteen soon. That’s what he keeps telling himself. Two years isn’t that long, not even a full two. One year and some odd months.

 

But he tells them small tidbits of information about himself. His favorite color, the movies he likes, his favorite books. Things of that nature. They don’t ask deep questions, thankfully.

 

Patrick assumes it’s because they already know. / _They know_ / and it makes him uncomfortable.

 

Eventually they ask if he would be okay with them coming back on Friday.

 

“I don’t mind,” he mumbles. They’re going to do what they want to do anyway. At least that’s how he feels.

 

“We’ll see you in two days,” Dale smiles before they say their goodbyes.

 

Patrick doesn’t honestly expect them to come back. They were being polite when they asked to see him again. He was being polite when he agreed. But never once does he actually believe they’ll come back.

 

So he’s more than just surprised when they show back up on Friday. They’re even on time.

 

***

 

So Patrick visits with them again. It keeps happening. The Wentzs keep coming back and Patrick can’t seem to figure it out.

 

At first they come twice a week, then they start coming three times a week and then it’s nearly four times a week.

 

“Mrs. Moore stopped by, said your people are coming at three today instead of five,” Colin says as he puts his clothes away, or shoves them haphazardly into his set of drawers.

 

“They really seem to like you,” Max adds from his spot on the floor. He’s meant to be doing his homework but he’s found something ‘fascinating’ under the bed that he’s been trying to reach.

 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do. They keep coming back,” Patrick mumbles, letting himself flop down onto the bed.

 

The other two boys turn to look at him.

 

“I thought that was a good thing?” Max says in confusion, a look on his face like he has no idea what the problem is.

 

“I don’t know how to feel,” Patrick says after a moment. He doesn’t open up often let alone to his roommates. But he’s not sure who else to tell.

 

“Well, typically,” Colin starts, “you’re meant to feel happiness and excitement. I’m guessing that’s not how you feel though,” he says.

 

“I’m waiting for them to stop coming, it hasn’t happened yet. But I think it will,” Patrick mumbles back.

 

“When I was small people-families would come and see me all the time. They would come for a couple weeks but they would always stop showing up. A little at a time. It would take longer and longer for them to come back but eventually they stopped showing up altogether,” Max says softly. He doesn’t look sad but his eyes look far away.

 

Nobody says anything after that. It’s sort of painful. Max isn’t a little kid anymore. And in the whole three years Patrick has been there, not one person has ever come to see him.

 

But it’s what Patrick is secretly afraid of. He won’t risk having hope if it’s only going to get yanked away. His thoughts force him to make promises with himself.

 

‘ _They don’t like you. You’re fucked up, they don’t want you. They’ll leave, don’t think they won’t.’_ He tells himself.

 

Colin is the one who finally speaks up. “Just play the game, Patrick.”

 

All Patrick can do is nod. He knows what Colin means. Just do what you’re told, be what you're expected to be. Say what they want you to say and you’ll get through this much easier. Play the game and your time here will go by much faster.

 

It’s the way of life at S.H.

  
***

 

Three months have passed and Peter and Dale have come every week, always three to four days out of seven.

 

They talk about Frank the new pet cat. They talk about Peter’s job at his law firm and Dale’s admissions job at a private high school. Patrick hears stories about their three children and how they’re doing. They seem to be doing well in college.

 

In return Patrick tries to tell them things about himself. He tells them that he passed his math test and that all his grades are up. But that’s about it.

 

What can he say? He gets up, gets on the bus, goes to his public high school where he has no friends, he avoids getting beat up because nobody notices him anymore, and then he gets back on that bus and is ushered back into Safe Haven. He does his chores, talks to them, eats dinner, and then goes to bed.

 

He doubts they wanna hear about how Max slept for no more than four hours last night or how Ethan threatened to hold his head under water if he didn’t go to bed. Or how a teacher he’s had for 2 years forgot his name.

 

He hates to say it, but they’re the biggest part of his life right at the moment.

 

Patrick notices though, they don’t talk about his past. They don’t bring it up, they don’t ask questions, they don’t ask him to talk about pastimes or memories. They don’t ask him about his parents. They know.

 

But Patrick does tell them that he likes music and they light up.

 

“So does Pete, he loves it. He likes to play in bands,” Peter says with excitement. He loves it when they find things in common or things in common with his other kids.

 

Patrick gives them both a small smile and a nod.

 

He can’t relate. While he can play a handful of instruments, the only thing his father ever truly taught him, he’s never played in a band. You can’t do things like that when you live in a youth shelter.

 

It’s been a long time since he’s gotten to play anything. No guitar, no drums, not even piano. The last time he played anything was the last night he was at home. He’s not even sure he could remember how to play something.

 

Sometimes in quiet moments he’ll move his fingers against imaginary piano keys, the muscle memory of a song reminding him that it was something he once loved. He can even tap out rhythms every once in awhile.

 

It was in the second year of his stay at S.H that he stopped missing the instruments and the music so much. He stopped letting himself miss a lot of things.

 

Patrick lets them talk though. He won’t feel jealously over the fact that some twenty one year old that he’s never met, gets to play whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

 

Eventually they start taking him places. If Patrick is honest, it freaks him out. He gets in their nearly new SUV and they take him to a movie. The Wentzs don’t seem to notice how awkward and strange it is.

 

But Patrick sits between them with a bucket of popcorn in his lap, trying not to cry.

 

It’s like a bad date. One you aren’t sure how you ended up on. It just….happened somehow. And instead of a potential boyfriend or girlfriend you’re sitting there with people that might want to be your potential parents instead.

 

“Um...sorry could I use the restroom?” He asks, setting the popcorn on the floor.

 

“Of course Patrick, you don’t have to ask. Hurry back though or you’ll miss all the good parts,” Dalle says, smiling brightly at him.

 

Patrick does his best to return the smile before shuffling out of the isle.

 

Once he knows they can’t see him any longer, he runs. He runs out of the dark theater and into the lobby.

 

His heart is pounding in his chest and his mouth has gone dry. He can’t breath. It’s like drowning.

 

“I don’t understand,” he mumbles to himself. There are only a few people in the lobby and the concession area and for that he’s grateful. Patrick is fairly sure he’s really about to cry. He’s going to have a very real and very public meltdown.

 

Dale and Peter are not meant to like him. He’s too fucked up to like, let alone to love. They know what happened, they know what's in his file so why are they still around.

 

He’s so close to 18, why bother? He’s already sixteen, just let the state worry about him.

 

Patrick rushes to the front of the exit and lets himself slip outside. This is his chance. He’s alone, unsupervised, and far enough from Safe Haven that he could run.

 

Fuck waiting two more years. He could do it now. This is his golden opportunity. He doesn’t care about losing every single privilege he’s ever had. He hasn’t done anything wrong, not criminally anyway. He’s tired of living in a prison.

 

He’ll live on the streets. He’ll eat out of trash cans and sell himself for money. It’s better than what he has now.

 

And if he gets caught it won’t matter. Dale and Peter will be long gone. They’ll realize that Patrick is a runner, no good, a bad kid that ran away from the the only people who were ever actually nice to him.

 

He sinks down onto the steps of the entrance and finally lets himself cry.

 

He wants his parents, even if...it doesn’t matter, he wants them anyway. And somehow he wants Peter and Dale too. Even if he doesn’t deserve them and he wants to badly to be part of their family that it hurts. He wants Pete and Frank the cat and Andrew and Hilary. He wants a family more than he could ever convey.

 

This was what scared Patrick the most. Hopeless Hope.

 

He wants to run and he wants to stay, without thinking he balls his fist up and slams it into the concrete steps. It’s the sharp pain that finally brings some sense of clarity. The sting knocks the air out of him but he can think again.

 

Patrick can’t run. This might all go to hell but if the Wentzs want him, he’ll gladly give himself over. He’d kill to be their son and he’s ready to admit that. Maybe not to anyone but himself but it’s a step. Patrick opens himself up to impending pain and the crushing possibility of rejection.

 

His bloodied hand is a small price to pay, a small sample of the pain he might endure if they change their mind about him.

 

The teen pulls the sleeve of his hoodie down, just enough to cover his bleeding knuckles and hauls himself off the steps so that he can head back inside.

 

With his other hand, he wipes at his eyes, trying to compose himself some before making his way back into the dark theater.

 

“Patrick are you okay? What happened, we were about to come looking for you. You were gone an awfully long time,” Dale says, giving him a concerned look.

 

For a moment he considers telling them the truth. He could tell them about all his fears and anxieties, about how he’s terrified they don’t want him and how desperately he wants to be wanted.

 

“You look a little pale, son, are you alright?” Pete asks from Patrick’s other side.

 

It’s just a nickname, a term of endearment almost. It means nothing but it’s enough to make his heart clench in his chest.

 

“I...I got sick in the bathroom. I think the popcorn hurt my stomach...I think it was too buttery,” Patrick mumbles, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m okay now though.”

 

It’s a lame excuse but it’s all he’s got.

 

“Hun, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would be hard on your stomach, are you alright now?” Dale asks, pressing a hand against his forehead.

 

Again Patrick wants to cry but for completely different reasons.

 

“No, it’s okay. I’m okay now,” he says softly.

 

“We can go home early,” Peter suggests.

 

Home. Patrick would go home if only he knew where it was. He wants to tell them that Safe Haven isn’t his home, that he wants to go home with them. He wants to share a home with them.

 

“I’m okay, I’m fine now. I wanna stay for the rest of the movie,” Patrick says, forcing a smile as he looks back at them.

 

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Dale says hesitantly but she returns Patrick’s expression easily.

 

***

  
It’s nearly two months after the movie theater incident when everything changes again.

 

Usually, him and the Wentzs meet outside if the weather is nice enough. When they asked to meet in the stuffy visitors room again, he doesn’t think much of it. Mainly because it’s been raining so much.

 

When he walks into the room right at 3 pm he knows life is no longer what it was. While he expected to see Peter and Dale there, he didn’t anticipate that the old office would be full of people.

 

Peter and Dale are there but so is Mrs. Moore and his case worker, and Safe Haven’s counselors, and a few other people Patrick is sure he’s never met before. They all look at him with big nervous eyes.

 

“Patrick,” Mrs. Moore says, “there is something very important we’d like to talk to you about today. Please...have a seat,” she says gentle but she’s got a smile on her face.

 

And suddenly the Wentzs are wearing that same smile and so is everyone else.

 

‘ _Pleasewantmepleasewantmepleasewantme_ ’ Patrick thinks to himself before taking a seat next to Dale. 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So this is your last night here?” Max asks, giving Patrick a sad look in the process.

 

“Maybe...I don’t know, they might send me back,” Patrick mumbles as he starts to slowly pack his things up. It’s just a couple of shirts, some jeans, a hoodie or two. Patrick doesn’t own that much. His hat is probably the only thing he’s not willing to leave behind.

 

“What do you mean, ‘send you back?’ Why would they do that?” Colin asks, looking up from the book he was reading.

 

Patrick hesitates before answering. “Well, I mean they might change their mind about me, it might not work out.” He says. It’s the truth though. He feels like he owes them a bit of honesty.

 

Colin jumps up from his bed before shaking his head. “I don’t wanna hear that shit, Stump,” he huffs. “Make it work, don’t let them change their mind,”Colin bites. “You don’t do anything that would make them bring you back here. This isn’t a game anymore. The game is over.”

 

Colin sends Patrick a look of sadness, anger, and desperation. It’s an expression he’s never seen Colin wear before and it makes Patrick flinch some. Seeing someone who works so hard to hide their emotion, express them so openly is unsettling.

 

“Do whatever it takes to make sure they never bring you back. You get a chance at a home, at a real family. You get to go home with people who actually give a shit about you. That’s more than anyone here has,” the brunette says, his tone tight and clipped. “That’s more than Max and I have.”

 

Patrick was taken back but Colin was right. When Patrick looks over at Max, he’s sitting silently on his bed looking uncharacteristically still and sullen.

 

“Okay,” Patrick mumbles softly. “Whatever it takes,” he says, making a promise to both of them.

 

“Hey, I was thinking about rainbows,” Max adds suddenly from his spot.

 

“About the theory?” Patrick asks.

 

“Sort of, something like that,” Max draws out.

 

“Max, it's the light reflecting back off the water droplets,” Patrick says carefully. This was one of the very last conversations they would have together and it was really gonna be about rainbows?

 

“No, no, no,” Max says quickly, shaking his head. “When I was like eleven, I had this foster mom and she said that a rainbow is God’s promise. He promises that after a storm, after something bad happens, he’ll gives us a rainbow. It’s something beautiful and hopeful to remind us that the best is yet to come,” Max says with a smile.

 

Patrick isn’t sure he believes in God. He imagines he probably should considering what a miracle getting adopted is. But even that might not be enough to convince him or persuade his beliefs.

 

But he knows he can’t say that to Max. He’s a fifteen year old clinging on to whatever hope he can find. Patrick can’t crush Max’s spirit with his own uncertainties about religion and God.

 

At the same time though, Patrick thinks that it would take more than a few words to break Max, he’s more than he looks. But still, he says nothing of the sort.

 

“If you already knew where rainbows come from, why ask me?” Patrick asks, tilting his head at the other blond. He’s got his suspicions though.

 

“To keep you up,” Max answers back with a smirk on his face. “Why else would I ask?”

 

The room falls silent again but Patrick can almost feel how thick the atmosphere is.

 

“I’ll miss you,” he finally mumbles. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the best roommate,” Patrick sighs softly.

 

“I’ve had worse,” Colin says, giving Patrick a rare smile. “As much as I like you, I don’t ever wanna see you again,” Colin laughs.

 

Patrick knows enough not to take it personally. He knows just what Colin means.

 

“I guess we should go to bed, you two still have school tomorrow,” Patrick says reluctantly. For the first time in three years, he sort of wants to be kept up. He’s not ready for tomorrow to come.

 

He doubts the other two boys will appreciate nodding off in class in the morning, it’s the only reason he even suggests sleeping.

 

“Max, do you wanna jump on the bed so Ethan can yell at us as a group one more time?” Colin asks lightly. He can see right through Patrick.

 

And of course Max agrees and of course, as predicted, Ethan starts banging loudly on the wall.

 

“I don’t care if it's his last night or not! Go to bed you dicks!” Ethan yells after a couple seconds. The three boys can’t help from laughing.

 

When they do all settle down and the lights are off, it still hasn’t sank in. It doesn’t feel like this is truly his last night. He’s still waiting for this to fall through, like he thinks they might still come to their sense. It doesn’t feel real. Patrick feels like he might wake up and the Wentzs will be just a wonderful dream after all. In fact that probability makes more sense.

 

***

He doesn’t know how he manages to fall asleep but in the morning, he realizes it’s still not a dream.

 

Once again it’s Mrs Moore shaking him awake.

 

“Patrick, you need to wake up. Peter and Dale decided to come early. They really want you home,” she says with a smile. “Are you all packed?” She whispers.

 

Patrick sits up and nods, he’s still groggy but he’s trying to keep up with what's going on. “I’m packed, I’m all ready,” he nods again before yawning.

 

“Okay, we’ve got them in the main office. They’re just singing the last bit of paperwork. Go ahead and get dressed and meet us there,” she says softly before leaving.

 

Patrick gets dressed as quietly as he can, packing away the pajamas he’d worn before taking one last look around the room. This is it. It’s barely six in the morning but if everything goes as expected, this is the last time he’ll ever see this whitewashed room. Or the two boys he’s shared it with for the last three and half years.

 

“Bye guys,” he says softly, his voice no more than a horse whisper. Oh god, this is it.

 

Just as he closes the door, he thinks he hears a soft ‘bye Patrick’ in return. He’ll never know for certain who said it or if it was even real or not.

 

When he goes to the office, Peter and Dale are there just like Mrs Moore said they were. They don’t look tired like Patrick feels. To be fair they both have a cup of coffee in hand.

 

“Patrick, Hun, we were just finishing up. Do you have everything? We know we’re early but well...we were excited,” Dale says, not bothering to hide her happiness.

 

“I’ve got everything,” he nods, sending his own tired smile their way.

 

“We’re just getting everything signed and tidied up here,” Mrs Moore adds, sliding one last sheet of paper over.

 

“You’ve already been to court so most everything was signed there. All the inspections were done back in May along with the interviews. It looks like we’ve got everything taken care of. You shouldn’t have anything else to sign for the next six months, his case manager will come out around that time and make sure everything is still going well,” Mrs Moore says before collecting everything they had just signed and initialed. “It’s one of the fastest adoption processes I think we’ve ever had here,” she says, her smile almost sad.

 

“The legal experience helps a little,” Peter says with a laugh but Patrick thinks the fact that Peter is a lawyer helped a lot.

 

“Alright, one more thing,” she says says before sliding a file across the desk.

 

Patrick can feel his heart sink. Maybe they hadn’t ever seen it after all? Is that possible? In that file is all his worst nightmares, it’s been his number one fear for all of three years, four months, and twenty three days.

 

Patrick isn’t counting though.

 

“We’ve got all the copies we need, once the adoption process is finalized we relinquish these to the parents. It’s mainly just all the paperwork he might need at some point,” she explains. “Alright Patrick, this is it.” Mrs Moore says and this time he knows she’s sad. “We’re going to miss you here at Safe Haven, but we’re all very excited for you. Remember, this isn’t the end of a story, it’s the beginning,” she says getting up from her desk and pulling him into a brief hug.

 

He doesn’t remember a time when she had ever hugged anyone. Physical comfort isn’t her forte. Patrick is grateful anyway.

 

“You ready to go home, Patrick?” Pete asks afterwards.

 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” he mumbles. With one last wave he’s finally walking out of S.H.

 

Before they reach the car though, Patrick has to stop them. He has to know before he leaves all together. It’s tugging at him, it’s ripping him apart. He can’t leave without knowing that they know.

 

He stops right outside the door, looking between Dale and Peter when they too stop.

 

“The...the um, the file. My file. Have you-Did you read it? Do um, do you know?” He asks suddenly. “I know that…” He trails off, so unsure of how to continue. “If you haven’t...if you don’t know everything you might change your mind,” he whispers.

 

The sun is hardly up but it’s warm out. Patrick knows it’s warm out, it has to be. It’s late July, it’s Chicago, it’s meant to be warm. He wonders why he suddenly feels so cold though.

 

He’s known these two people for nearly seven months, not even a full year. But Patrick doesn’t want to lose them. He’s scared that he might after all this.

 

It’s fair, he keeps telling himself that. They should know what they’re taking home with them. What kind of damaged person they’re going to be bringing into their home, what kind of person they’ll be introducing to their loved ones.

 

Peter and Dale frown at him before sharing a worried glance. “Patrick, we know what's in this folder. We’ve known since day one. That’s-it’s never changed how we feel about you. It’s never changed what's in our hearts,” Dale says softly.

 

“This folder has a lot in it. A copy of your birth certificate, a copy of your social security card, immunization records,” she stops and her expression changes. “It has information about what happened to your parents, about what you’ve seen and what you’ve been through. Patrick we’ve always been aware and it changes nothing. That wasn't your fault. We haven’t talked about it because you haven’t talked about it. And if and when you’re ready, we’re here to listen,” Dale finishes, reaching out and holding Patrick’s hand.

 

“You’re a brave young man, you’ve had to grow up too fast. But we’re here now and you don’t need to worry about about all these adult things anymore. We just want you to be happy and to be part of our family,” Peter adds, giving the teen a gentle smile. “Let’s go home, okay? We’ve got a busy day.”

 

  
***

  
They live in Wilmette and Patrick knows just about where he is. Not completely but it’s not far from where he grew up in Glenview. It’s a nice neighborhood and it feels fitting for the Wentzs. The lawns are all perfectly manicured, every home is large and immaculate with flowerbeds out front. It’s perfectly picturesque. It’s close to beautiful, if rich well taken care of suburbs can be described as beautiful.

 

But, hell, even the streetlights are rustic and colonial. Patrick doesn’t know what else to call it. It’s a beautiful neighborhood, one right out of the movies.

 

Patrick has been to their home a total of two times to be exact. Once when he met Hillary and Andrew who flew in to meet him from their university. And once to meet Peter’s parents and then Dale’s.

 

“We’ve repainted Andrew’s old room, we didn’t know what color to go with. We thought maybe you’d like a nice light green,” Dale says as they pull into the driveway. “If you don’t though we can always change it,” she adds quickly.

 

“I like green,” he says softly. He feels calmer after what Peter and Dale had said. He’s still a little unsure but he’s trying to trust them.

 

“Good, it’s next to Pete’s room but we’ve talked to him about not getting too rowdy with the guitar. For the longest time it’s just been him upstairs, you might have to remind him from time to time to keep it down,” Dale says gently. “I hope you don’t mind, I picked some clothes out for you already. Nothing over the top, just some shirts, some jeans and a few shorts. You know, solid colors. Until we can go and buy a few more outfits, There might be a few...odd selections, Pete tried to help. I think mainly he just added some of his old clothes into your closet.”

 

Pete. He’s the one Patrick has heard so much about but he’s yet to meet him.

 

Peter laughs but shakes his head. “We can donate anything you don’t like. Don’t be afraid to tell us if you don’t like something, you’ll have to around here. Dale enjoys shopping for clothes, she’ll try and put you in anything you’ll let her.”

 

“I don’t do that,” Dale says firmly before turning around in her seat. “I picked out neutral clothes, Pete picked out...more fashion forward things,” Dale explains carefully. “He’s on a road trip with his friends right now. They’re meant to playing one of their shows in Wisconsin. He’ll be home early tomorrow morning though, I bet you're dying to meet him,” Dale says with a smile, but Patrick thinks her eyes look worried.

 

“A little bit, I think I’ve met everyone else,” Patrick admits slowly. It’s their son and he hasn’t met him yet and he’s meant to be living with him, in the room next to his. He’s kind of ready to meet Pete Wentz.

 

“He’ll grow on you. He’s very smart, loves music, poetry, and deep down he’s got the kindest largest heart you could imagine. Try to keep that in mind,” Peter says, giving Patrick the same nervous smile Dale gave him.

 

Keep that in mind? What does that mean? Dale and Peter are nice, their parents are nice, their other two kids were nice. He can’t imagine Pete being anything other than nice.

 

After they all get out of the car, it finally starts to hit home. He’s walking up his pathway, his front steps, he’s at his front door. This really truly is his home, his family. He can’t comprehend it. It’s meant to be a dream but it’s not.

 

It’s not a dream.

 

***

Their home is bright and welcoming. It’s got a peaceful feeling about it, one Patrick hasn’t felt in a long time. There are personal touches everywhere, pictures frames and warm colored rugs on rich hardwood floor. It’s a four bedroom two story and Patrick is sort of in love. It smells like spices and something homemade. There are lots of trees outside and it feels right. It’s an open floor concept and it makes him think of his old home.

 

“Do you like it?” Dale asks as she shows Patrick his room. “We tried to make everything as new as we could,” she says, eyeing the room over herself. More like scrutinizing it.

 

The bed is new, so is the comforter and the pillows. And the lamp, that looks new. The grey curtains have to be brand new as well judging by how crisp they are. Freshly painted walls and a new desk as well. It’s all new. There is even a new television in the corner and laptop setting on that new oak desk.

 

Patrick suddenly feels so overwhelmed. He quickly turns to shake his head. “You didn’t have to do all this. I didn’t...you didn’t have to get me anything new,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. Why in God’s name would they go through all the trouble and money to accommodate him? Did they know what his room looked like back at Safe Haven? Or how they had one television and that was in the common area? And you had to share it with twelve to fifteen other boys?

 

Not to mention the fact that Patrick can’t even remember the last time he got online. Maybe last year for a history project?

 

“Of course we did, you deserve it. We’ve missed out on a lot of Christmas’ and Birthdays together. They’re like past due gifts,” Peter says with a smile.

 

“It’s not really done, the walls are a bit empty. I know it’s not personalized yet but we’ll work on that. We didn’t want to over decorate until we got some input from you. I imagine in a month or so this room be exactly how you want it to be.”

 

Those were all the things he had back at his childhood home. His own bed, his own television. Not a laptop, but his parents, before that night, had hinted at maybe getting him one for Christmas that year. Patrick can’t help but start to become ambivalent towards everything. He’s happy and he’s sad all at once and he doesn’t know how to convey all this.

 

“Why don’t we go back downstairs? I’ve done some rearranging since we’ve last had you over,” Dale says, leading Patrick away towards the stairs. “We'll let you get settled into your room in a little bit, why don’t we show you around again and then have some breakfast?”

 

***

So far, the day was spent filling Patrick in and planning. They talk about new school uniforms and they wanted to go and have lunch with everyone soon, possibly next weekend.

 

At dinner he helps make the chicken and the salad and he’s painfully aware that he hasn’t felt like part of a real family in so long that he’s forgotten how nice it is. It’s been so long and to finally have a small taste of a what a normal life is, it’s close to painful.

 

Painful because he’ll fall apart if this falls apart.

 

When they’re all seated the couple finally decide that it’s time to go over the rules.

  
“It’s not anything we haven’t asked all our children to do. They’ve had to follow the same set of rules you’ll be following. Mainly no drugs, no alcohol, no smoking, no girls,” Peter says, naming things one by one and counting them off on his fingers.

 

“Ask before you go anywhere. Curfew is at nine, no going anywhere after that. We make certain exceptions for weekends but you have to clear it with us first. Our answer will usually depend on how well you’ve done in class and how you’ve followed the other rules,” Dale adds.

 

“There is a chore list but Pete’s here too so it’s not all on you. Loading the dishwasher, keeping the floors swept up, making sure the trash gets taken out,” Peter continues. “It’s just things like that, we usually don’t make our kids scrub the floors with a toothbrush or anything like that,” he jokes.

 

“Just make sure you do what we ask and we’ll never ask anything that’s unreasonable. Help us out when we need it and know we don’t expect you to know everything right away. Pete will help you along the way. He’s not always the best at rule following but he’ll...well he’ll know what’s expected. He’ll be helpful and understanding,” Dale says, it almost sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.

 

But Pete sounds amazing already, Patrick might already adore him. He doesn’t know the older boy but he’s praying, praying that Pete will like him as much as Patrick already likes him. He has to be nice and warm and just like Peter and Dale.

 

“Okay, I’ll make sure I follow the rules. I’ll do my best,” Patrick says softly and he will. He’d move mountains for these people if they asked him to. He’ll follow the rules, he’s good at following rules. He’s never once had any incidents at Safe Haven. He struggled some at the beginning but if Patrick had ever done anything worthy of getting in trouble, well nobody ever found out. Compared to the ‘breathe wrong and we’ll take away points,’ policy at S.H. The Wentzs rules are a walk in the park.

 

“We know you will, Patrick. You’re going to do great,” Peter smiles.

 

“We’ve still got about two and a half weeks before school starts. Peter and I took that time off work to help you settle in. I know that's not much but we’ll take as much time as you need. If you need more time to adjust we’ll take a couple more weeks off,” Dale says giving Patrick a smile.

 

“We'll see how you do. But remember neither of us will be far. I only work a couple minutes from home and the high school Dale works at is only a few blocks away.”

 

“Why am I not going to that high school?” Patrick asks quietly with some hesitation behind it. But it would be less unnerving to know Dale was only a trip to the office if he needed her. For some reason though he’ll be at a high school all the way on the other side of town.

 

“Well Patrick, the high school you’re going to is private. We can afford it and it’s where the rest of our children went. We want to make sure we give you every opportunity we gave them. We know all the teachers already, we know it’s a good school, and we think you’ll be happy there,” Peter explains gently.

 

“We know you’ll get a good education while you’re there. That’s so important to us, we don’t want you to miss out on anything and we’ve been lucky to stay in a position where we can give you the best,” Dale adds with another small smile.

 

Patrick isn’t sure if all that really matters. He’s going to be a junior and he’s sort of stuck with the knowledge his average public education has installed him with. Two years probably won’t make much of a difference but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Patrick finally gets to meet Frank the cat after dinner. Frank turns out not to be a boy like he originally thought. They had gotten her when she was too small to tell and by the time they realized the name had stuck.

 

Patrick is instantly taken with her. She’s black with white socked feet and her whiskers are long and just as white. She seems to like him as well if her purrs are any indication. Of course you never can be too sure with cats but she nuzzles his ankles and she’s through being skittish with him.

 

His parents had never allowed him to have pets. Any time he actually got to be around animals was if one of his friends had pets.

 

“You can take her up to your room if you you’d like. She’s good company,” Peter says, noticing the way Patrick had seemed to fold in on himself when it was time to head up to bed.

 

“Really?” Patrick asks unsurely.

 

“Of course, she’ll let you know when she wants back downstairs,” Dale says with a kind voice and a gentle expression.

 

Patrick nods and sends them both a grateful look afterwards. After they say their good nights, Patrick and Frank head upstairs while Dale and Peter head off to their own room.

 

It’s not until he’s dressed in an old pair of pajama pants and a shirt, tucked up snugly in his bed, that Patrick realizes how scared he his. His bed sheets are too new to feel comfortable and the pillows sort of smell like the plastic they probably came in. That and it’s so quiet. The room is so silent that it starts to make his ears ring.

 

For years all Patrick wanted at night was peace and quiet. Now he’d do anything to change it. He longs for the cold tile floor and the empty white walls of Safe Haven. Patrick longs for the constant chatter of a fifteen year old and the irritated huffs and sighs of an annoyed seventeen year old. He even misses the angry yells of teenage anger issues.

 

Patrick sniffles miserably, trying hard not to cry. Safe Haven wasn’t a place he ever wanted to be. But it had become the only place he knew. Not home but familiarity if anything.

 

Frank, who had been resting at the foot of the bed, blinks lazily around. She doesn’t seem to be able to sleep either.

 

Without thinking much about it, Patrick sits up and reaches over towards the window the bed frame is pressed up against. He wants some kind of sound to filter out his thoughts. Even if it’s just the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. It’s better than nothing at all.

 

With a bit of effort he manages to raise the window. What he doesn’t expect is for Frank to come barrelling towards it.

 

“Frank no!” Patrick hisses but he doesn’t have enough time to stop her. Before Patrick knows what's happening, the cat is jumping out the second story window, leaping onto the nearest tree. It’s less than a foot away from the ledge of the window but from Patrick’s view point it kind of looks like she’s soaring through the night sky. He briefly wonders if maybe the cat is suicidal.

 

Thankfully she makes her landing and Patrick can only stare dumbfounded as he watches her skillfully climb down and then dashes across the yard.

 

“Fuck,” he whispers in a panic. Was Frank even allowed to go outside? Why did he have to be stupid enough to open the window? But in all fairness, never in a million years does he think he’d have the forethought to realize she would jump out the damn window.

 

What if she got ran over by a car or attacked by a dog? What a ridiculous reason to get sent back to Safe Haven not even a full day later. He can hear it all now.

 

‘ _Oh you let the family cat out? And then it got hit by a car? And then it’s lifeless body was eaten by a rabid dog? Well, yeah we probably would have sent you back too.’_

 

Patrick doesn’t have a choice. He has to try and get her back inside. He slips his shoes back on before quietly climbing back down the stairs. The sound of their creaking almost sounds like they're laughing at him. Carefully as he can, Patrick unlocks the front door and steps outside.

 

“Frank, here kitty kitty,” he calls, looking around for her. “Come on Frank, don’t do this to me,” he sighs in frustration.

 

He keeps calling for her, knowing he can’t go back inside without her. After a long ten minutes he faintly spots her by a bush in the front yard. She’s laying on the round, apparently trying to stalk some kind of insect. Patrick crouches down slowly as he tries to get closer to her.

 

“Come here Frank, let's go inside kitty. Let’s go back to bed kitty, kitty,” he whispers softly, using his sweetest voice to try and win her over.

 

The second she looks at him though she blinks her big yellow green eyes and meows at him. Her tail wishes slightly and in the darkness Patrick thinks he can see her whiskers twitch happily.

 

‘This is it,’ Patrick things to himself. She’s going to come to him and then they can finally go back inside and she won’t die and he won’t be sent back to the Shelter. It’s a great night after all.

 

And then she takes off into the bush, further away from Patrick. “Oh God damn it,” he mutters angrily before getting even lower to the ground and crawling towards the bush. “Frank please, we have to go back inside,” he pleaded as he tries to spot her from the under the bush.

 

Patrick gets so caught up in looking for the cat that he doesn’t hear the angry footsteps rushing towards him. He's even more than a little shocked when somebody grabs the back of shirt right at the collar and pulls him backwards.

 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” An angry voice says. “Are you trying to steal my cat, you little creep?”

 

Patrick scrambles to turn around and face his accuser but the other his already hauling him up off the ground and spinning him around.

 

“I um...I was just-the cat was…” Patrick cries, struggling in the others grasp. The other seems to realize he’s got an intimidation factor about him and he’s using it perfectly. Patrick vaguely wonders if he could play dead or if it’s too late for that

 

“You fucking weirdo, what the hell are you doing?” the guy bites, his eyebrows furrowed in anger as he shakes Patrick some.

 

Patrick is too afraid to say anything else, he’s too shook up to explain himself properly. The guy looks like he’s got a couple inches on Patrick and a few years for sure. It’s dark but the sixteen year old can make out his features. Dark eyes, dark hair that’s been dyed red at the bangs, lean muscles covered in ink. It’s his teeth though that almost give him away. He’s snarling at Patrick, but the younger teen thinks that if he smiles it might look just like Dales.

 

“Answer me!” The other snaps, pulling Patrick close and glaring down at him. “You think it’s okay to just go around hiding in people’s bushes, stealing cats and shit? You’re lucky I don’t beat your ass,” he barks and Patrick feels himself start to shake harder.

 

When Patrick doesn’t say anything, much too afraid, he feels himself being pushed up against the front of the house, his back slamming into the siding. The other’s fist is inches from his face and all the sixteen year old can do is close his eyes and wait for the impact.

 

Suddenly, before he can any kind of knuckles against his cheek, he's saved.

 

“Pete what in God’s name are you doing?!” Dale yells, flinging the front door open. She’s dressed in a nightgown, a hand on her hip with an angry expression. Peter is right beside her, looking far more confused than he does angry. “Pete Wentz you let Patrick go this instant!” She growls.

 

“Patrick?” Pete, apparently, asks before letting his hands fall to his sides. He stares at the younger boy for a moment before shaking his head. “What you mean, this is him?” Pete asks. “I thought he was trying to steal the cat.”

 

“I-I opened the window and she jumped out...I got scared, I didn’t know if she was allowed to be outside or not,” Patrick says. He wants to cry all over again. He thought meeting Pete would be a pleasant experience, not a horrifying one.

 

“It’s okay Patrick, she’s an indoor outdoor cat,” Dale says softly, giving him a sympathetic look.

 

“Pete, son, what are you doing home so early? You said you wouldn’t be home until morning,” Peter asks, running a hand down his face in a tired manor.

 

“Chris got sick so we decided to come home tonight instead of waiting until morning,” Peye mumbles before turning his attention back to Patrick. “So this is my replacement then? He looks more like a kicked puppy,” Pete scoffs and while Patrick shrinks even further under his glare.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always shy about my stories so it's hard to say much about them! I know this chapter just kind of seemed like filler but I promise it'll be more interesting next time. I know I'm slow at updating but I'll try to be a little faster with this one. Again, all the comments and kudos are so greatly appreciated. I hope everyone enjoyed it and that there weren't too many mistakes.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how this will be perceived. I've never lived in a shelter and I don't have first hand experience but hopefully this is passable. I hope it doesn't feel rushed or sloppy and hopefully I spelled everything right! I'm not good at end notes but comments mean everything to me!


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